


and i will call you darling

by dxvr



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Drinking, M/M, Mistletoe, Office Party, Pre-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Trans Male Character, canon typical tea, research era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dxvr/pseuds/dxvr
Summary: “Martin, how are you getting home?” Sasha asks. Suddenly all eyes are on Martin as he starts to stammer out something about the tube, or a cab, but Jon’s mouth has started to run ahead of his brain as he-“My flat’s not far, if you don’t mind the walk. I’ve got a spare room, if you...?” It comes out as a question, an offer. A ‘please say yes’ that’s proof that Jon’s brain has turned to putty.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 24
Kudos: 310





	and i will call you darling

**Author's Note:**

> thinking about the time before they started working in the archives hurts but someones gotta do it amiright fellas. title is from make you mine by PUBLIC. jules, my dearest, my star, my friend-who-i-forced-into-tma, thank you for betaing!

There were, all things considered, a lot of people flitting in and out of a cleared out meeting room on the second floor of the Magnus Institute.

More than seemed safe, or realistic, really, for what it was. The institute was currently hosting an annual holiday party that could only kindly be considered professional. Jon could already see a couple- hands wrapped around styrofoam cups undoubtedly filled with cheap wine or Tim’s “famous party punch”- on their way to the third floor to escape the loud, joyful exclamations coming from the room across from Jon’s current position on the floor in the hallway. He had managed to get a mug from the break room to pour wine in (classy) before the room had started to fill with enough people to be considered a fire hazard, and had slipped away from Tim, who had apparently set his mind on getting Jon as drunk as possible. He’d had said as much before the party started, at least, but Jon wasn’t _stupid_ , and he knew better to let things get out of control. The last thing he needed was a reason for his coworkers to tease him for the next few weeks, or until they did something more embarrassing. 

Jon knew Sasha had joined sometime before him, having transferred from artefact storage. Her stories of that job had given Jon shivers and more than a few nightmares, if he was being honest.

Tim’d only just got the job in Research a few months prior, but he’d fit in quite well with the other researchers. It turned out that making friends came as naturally to Tim as being uncomfortably formal came to Jon. He could remember his own first interview with Elias, his voice stilted and body drawn up unnaturally. Something about Elias just… threw Jon off.

He’d hate to end up in that posh, weirdly dated office again. 

“Jon! We were wondering where you’d run off to!” Sasha’s voice rang out from the doorway to the party, where she and Tim stood under-

Oh. 

There was mistletoe above the doorway, and Jon knew he was giving it away to Tim, who followed his wide eyes up until- 

“Sashaaa! I guess it’s your lucky day, you get a kiss from the gracious Timothy Stoker!” Tim chimes. Sasha laughs as she replies easily, “Not like you wouldn’t kiss me without it.” Jon sees Tim pout before Sasha leans in to quickly give him a peck, and as she pulls back Jon can see Tim smiling widely before turning to Jon.

“And why have you been hiding out here?” 

Jon’s grateful that Tim hadn’t asked him for a kiss.

“I haven’t!”

And Jon _doesn’t_ think he’s been hiding, he’s been in the middle of a hallway where people have been passing all night, even _Tim_ had passed him without comment on the way to go somewhere with Martin, who’d actually looked quite flushed now that he thought about it, but Jon _wasn’t_ thinking about it, wasn’t thinking about _Martin._ Jon knew thinking about Martin would just make his mood turn sour, his face grow pinched and his stomach start to roll. He knows this isn’t normal, to feel this way about a coworker who really hasn’t done anything wrong, but Jon can’t help it. At least, that's what he tells himself when he sees Martin and Sasha chatting while they should be working in the break room, or Martin leaving research with a notebook and coming back ten minutes later to tuck the notebook back into his desk drawer.

“We brought you something.” Sasha smiles and Jon’s eyes flit to a bottle in her hand. “And we thought -since you seem to think this party is unbearable- you might want to come with us.”

Jon tucks a strand of greying hair behind his ear. “Where? I find it hard to believe that Elias would be okay with us stealing a bottle of... whatever kind of wine someone’s picked up at the off-license down the street and leaving.” 

“Don’t worry!” Sasha hands him the bottle of- _raspberry_ wine. Jon wishes he never mentioned it. “We’re just going outside for a bit. Figured we could use some fresh air.” Sasha smiles at him again, and Jon knows this is just part of a plan to get him pissed, but Tim has started to pout at him while leaning on Sasha’s shoulder, and- well. Jon is professional, but he’s not a monster. 

“Fine. But I’m not drinking any of- this.” Jon flicks his hand that’s holding the offending wine. Really, raspberry? 

“Great!” Tim perks up and Jon has a moment to ask “What?” before he whips his head around to call into the meeting room. “Martin! Fancy a bit of cold air?”

Jon, busy pushing himself off the carpeted institute floor, freezes. “Martin’s coming?”

“Well, we can’t just leave him here without any supervision. He’s… quite _merry_.” Tim beams at his own pun, and Sasha bites down a groan. 

“You shouldn’t be making jokes about being sloshed, Tim. You know that Martin’s had less than you tonight, he’s just a lightweight. Not everybody had your university experience, you know,” Sasha quips. Jon flushes, suddenly remembering his own college days and glances down to his covered thigh, where a drunken Georgie had promised him that, _yes, Jon, I have done this, now stop worrying,_ before giving him quite a remarkable, in the embarrassing way, stick and poke. 

“Where are we going?” A breathless reply from Martin comes from behind the doorway and Jon’s head snaps up, making eye contact with him, against his better sensibilities. Martin flushes immediately, eyes raking down Jon’s frame. And, oh- Jon’s face curls up in a frown. He definitely doesn’t look any different from normal, so Martin has no reason to look at him like that. He clears his throat to get Martin’s attention and Martin’s eyes pin him to the wall, like he’s analyzing every move Jon makes. Jon flushes. 

“Alright! Research gang- let’s roll out!” Tim’s voice pierces through- through _whatever_ just happened. Jon looks at him incredulously. 

“ _Research gang_? Tim-”

Sasha interrupts him, “Boys, if you’re going to argue, can we at least do it outside?”

Tim giggles before leaning on Sasha once more. “Of course, your majesty. Lead the way.”

Sasha turns towards the exit and is followed for all of two seconds before Tim throws his hand over his heart, turns around and gapes at Martin. 

“ _Martin._ I can’t believe I’d almost let you get away with that.”

Martin’s eyes flash with worry as he begins to stutter out fragmented questions, but Tim is already moving closer to him and looking up at- at the damn mistletoe. Again. Jon’s suddenly very happy Tim hadn’t seen it when they arrived at the party, although Jon’s not sure Tim would enforce the tradition with him. Jon knows he’s not… easy to be anything other than professional with, no matter how much effort Tim puts into trying to convince him to ‘just leave off the posh, sophisticated act for a while, _Jon,_ ” but for all of Tim’s efforts, Jon doesn’t know if he would actually- well. Kiss him in the middle of a work holiday party, in front of all of their coworkers. 

Martin, who seems to have caught on, watches Tim with slightly unfocused eyes as he dips down to meet Martin. Jon can see Martin melting into the kiss and he squeaks, embarrassed to be watching his coworkers private moment, as he pivots 180 degrees to face the other way. He’s curious, though. Martin had seemed more comfortable than he had the entire night, barely on his tiptoes -Tim couldn’t have been more than two inches taller than him- and eyes shut like he knew what was coming. 

Jon feels something flare up in his stomach at that. Had they done this before? Jon scrunches up his nose as several images play through his head- Tim and Martin laughing in their corner of research, Tim and Martin bumping into each other in the break room and smiling, Tim and Martin leaving tonight without giving anyone a second glance. Jon doesn’t know why this makes him feel so _wrong_. He huffs and looks down at his hands,one curled with white knuckles around his mug as the other holds the neck of the bottle of raspberry wine. He takes a sip from the mug as he hears a cough from behind him.

He turns around and finds Martin rubbing the back of his neck, blush blooming over his face, and Tim grinning like a loon as he steps out from the doorway. 

“Are we ready to go now, team?”

Jon scoffs and meets Sasha’s eyes and- and she’s staring directly at him, her eyes wide and her mouth in a small _o_. Jon blinks at her and she shuts her mouth before mechanically rotating to look at Tim. 

“We’ve _been_ ready!” She says, almost too loud, but only Jon seems to flinch. He takes another sip of cheap wine, a warm buzz starting to flow through him, and releases the tension in his shoulders. He was overreacting, probably just a little cross at how unprofessional they were being. He giggles at that thought, and the others turn to him. He feels his face warm up and spins towards the exit. He can hear the others follow him as he makes his way downstairs and towards the empty pavement to the side of the building. He stops walking a bit too suddenly, and his drink sloshes over the rim of his mug. 

Tim’s on him in a second, pulling the bottle from his hand and pulling out the cork -when did he take the corkscrew out?- and then pouring a healthy amount into Jon’s mug. 

Jon grimaces as he watches the liquid ripple, just knowing it was going to taste foul, but now Tim’s moved onto drinking directly from the glass before handing it to Sasha, who passes it to Martin with an apologetic look to Tim. 

“I know I’m going to have to be the responsible one tonight and drive you home.” Jon doesn’t catch Tim’s response. Martin has started to drink from the bottle, throat moving repeatedly with his eyes closed. Jon stares at him before trying to inhale his own wine mix, with watering eyes. He has a fit of coughs as Tim hits him on the back repeatedly, really, why would that help, and Sasha asks him if he’s okay. Jon tearfully nods as he sucks in a breath and actually swallows some wine from his cup, washing down the remaining tickle in his throat. 

Tim starts laughing and calling him a ‘bigger lightweight than Martin, but it was kind of expected because of how short he was, and Sasha, do you know anyone who’s been plastered off less than a mugful of cheap wine?’ but Jon just peers into his cup, which still has quite a bit left in it. He’s not feeling as _plastered_ as Tim believes he is, but he can’t be sober. Because sober Jon doesn’t think about Martin’s throat. _Drunk_ Jon shouldn’t be thinking about Martin’s throat, shouldn’t be thinking about Martin at all, really.

“Jon? Are you feeling alright?” Sasha’s paying attention to him instead of Tim, now. She looks between him and Martin, who is staring very intensely at the bottle that’s still in his hand with a bewildered expression clouding his features. Jon suddenly has to stifle a laugh, because that’s the same face Martin makes when he has to look up JSTOR articles after Sasha’s gone out for a break. And Jon can’t help it, he gives a little snort when Martin’s head snaps up. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he’s glad he did, because now the group is laughing along with him. 

“S-sorry, it’s just- I mean, Martin, he’s got you dead to rights,” Tim giggles. “I mean, we love you, but it’s like you’ve never used a computer before, sometimes!” Martin sheepishly looks down at the pavement as Tim continues to talk, but Jon’s not quite paying attention because Tim had said ‘ _we_ love you,’ not _I,_ and Jon’s shocked to find that he can’t oppose that.

Because, sure, Martin might not be the easiest to work with at times, but maybe Jon’s view of him has been clouded by first impressions of soft handshakes and bad posture. This Martin, the one who’s pushing Tim away and easily replying ‘ _no, I’m not offended, I know, I know, just a joke,_ ’ is warm and always knows when Jon needs tea, even if he doesn’t ask. This Martin isn’t the Martin that Jon’s been seeing for the past few months, but he’s okay with that. Jon’s eyes widen as he realizes that he, actually, _really,_ doesn’t mind that, doesn’t mind this Martin, his Martin. His Martin.

“Martin, how are you getting home?” Sasha asks. Suddenly all eyes are on Martin as he starts to stammer out something about the tube, or a cab, but Jon’s mouth has started to run ahead of his brain as he- 

“My flat’s not far, if you don’t mind the walk. I’ve got a spare room, if you...?” It comes out as a question, an offer. A ‘please say yes’ that’s proof that Jon’s brain has turned to putty. 

“Oh, ah- I was going to, I mean- that’s… yes. Yes. Okay.” Martin’s looking very red as he splutters this out, “But- I left my sweater inside. I have to get that.” Martin looks directly at the ground as he says this, and his gaze doesn’t move as he begins to stumble away from the group, giving the wine to Sasha. 

“I’ll be right there!”

Tim and Sasha share a-a _look_ , and Jon definitely doesn’t like that, before turning to him. Jon startles at their synchronized movement, and then-

“So, going to shag him, then?” 

Jon’s face burns red as he breathes when he’s supposed to be swallowing. Through his blurred, shaking vision Jon can see Sasha whack Tim on the arm and whisper something to him.

“I mean, listen Jon, I’m very glad you’re… loosening up, but Martin-”

“I’m not going to _shag_ him!” Jon manages to squeak out. “I don’t- that’s- _first_ of all, I don’t, I don’t exactly _do_ that, and second, I just offered him a room! He can’t take the tube this late, when he’s like that!” 

Sasha’s looking at him with that same ‘o’ mouth now, while Tim’s just _looking_ at him, and Jon doesn’t like it, doesn’t like this conversation. 

“You don’t do _what,_ exactly?” Tim’s managed to get a sentence out, and continues, “What, men? Jon, if you’re about to tell me you’re heterosexual-”

“What? No, Tim, I don’t… I don’t do _that_ with- well, anyone, really-” 

And Jon’s never considered himself a lucky man, really, due to the whole childhood and teenage trauma, but when Martin’s voice saves him from Tim and Sasha’s double act, he’s never felt luckier. 

“Ready!”

Jon whips around and meets Martin’s small smile with one of his own, and Martin’s eyes widen as his smile falls, and he looks down at Jon’s hands, which are still holding a half-full cup of the wine mixture. Jon knows he’s going to regret it, but he doesn’t much care for anything other than leaving at this point, so he holds the cup to his lips and lets the liquid flow down his throat before thrusting the mug into Tim’s hands. 

As Jon, followed closely by Martin, begins to make his way from the institute, he thinks that the party could have been worse. 

~

This couldn’t be worse.

Jon feels terror creeping through his body as he pats down his pockets again - _no, no, no_ \- looking for his keys. Martin’s currently holding his phone and wallet, but when Jon had gone to unlock the door to his flat, his hands had come up empty. 

Fuck. Jon turns to Martin.

“Look, I’m sorry. You should just go home.” Jon’s face flushes as he recalls that Martin wouldn’t be here in the first place if Jon had just kept his mouth shut earlier. 

Martin gapes at him, opening and closing his mouth like he can’t quite remember how to speak. Oh, god, he’s probably furious at Jon. He wouldn’t be surprised if Martin decided to hit him, he certainly deserves it. When was the last time he’d managed his way into an actual fight? Must’ve been back in college, with Georgie behind him if he fell, and now Martin’s shuffling towards Jon, holding out his hands- 

Oh.

He’s reaching out towards Jon, pushing his phone and wallet into his hands. Jon looks down before shoving them into his pockets, and moving his hands to tug on his hair. 

“You can stay at my flat,” Martin blurts, “I mean- sorry.It’s just, well, we don’t know where your keys are, _obviously,_ and I don’t know if you can find anyone else to stay with, so. If you can suffer through the tube for a couple minutes, you’re welcome to spend the night with me. Not with me! At my flat. Where I live.” 

“Yes, yes, Martin,” Jon interrupts before Martin can keep babbling, “Thank you that’s… very kind. I promise I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow morning.” 

Martin seems nervous as they walk down towards the nearest tube station. Jon can feel him glancing at him from the side, but every time Jon turns towards him he quickly looks away. There’s a silence between them, echoed by the loud platform they’re standing at. When the car’s doors open, Jon and Martin slip through into the noisy space. 

The car is packed. 

“Oh my god.” Jon groans. Martin returns his comment with an eyeroll. “It’s Friday night, and I think there’s something going on downtown.” 

“Really, Martin? I thought they were all going to crash the institute's holiday party. Funny that, an event so close to Christmas.” Martin shoves Jon’s arm.

There’s enough room for them to stand comfortably when Jon’s in front of Martin, pressed against his front. Jon’s never been more glad to be facing away from Martin, because every time the car shifts he gets pressed closer, and Martin’s so warm. Jon just wants to lean back and close his eyes, but he stands up straight and forces his eyes open until they’ve gotten to Martin’s stop.

~

When Martin unlocks his front door and turns on the light, Jon’s eyebrows fly up. It’s… cozy. Martin shuts the door behind them, and as Jon takes off his shoes, he looks around at Martin’s flat. From the doorway, the kitchen, living room and hallway are visible, and Jon can see a light coming from one of two doors at the end of the hall. 

“So. I only have one bedroom, but I’ll take the couch, and I’m guessing you want to shower, you can borrow some clothes, I don’t mind-” Martin stumbles over his words while talking. Jon looks between the couch in Martin’s living room and Martin, who is at the very least a good six inches taller than Jon and much wider. 

“Martin, I’ll take the couch, I’m intruding, it’s only fair-”

“What? No, no you’re not. I invited you!” Martin argues. “Besides, the couch is uncomfortable, you shouldn’t be forced to sleep there.”

Jon splutters, “That’s- that’s not, _Martin,_ I insist-”

“You _insist?_ It’s my bed, _Jon._ ”

“We could share!” 

It comes out much more aggressive than Jon was aiming for, and Martin freezes, blush creeping up his neck. But when he answers, his tone isn’t soft like Jon expected. It’s just slightly too loud for how close they are, high pitched like Martin’s been pinched. 

“Okay!” Martin seems to realize his voice and it’s decidedly quieter when he asks, “Are you going to shower?”

Jon mentally groans. The thought of a hot shower sounds fantastic, and it’s not like he has much of a choice. His back is starting to ache from wearing his binder for the extra hours the holiday party stole, and he hadn’t taken one in the morning. 

“Yes, please.” 

Martin looks at him for a second before setting off towards his room. Jon slowly follows him, faltering before walking into Martin’s room. He knows he’ll end up there, but it feels too personal for him to be there. 

“I don’t think I have something in your size, but I have a couple of shirts from a while ago that might fit you better than anything else. Oh! I have a pair of joggers from years ago I never got rid of- here!” Martin throws open the door to his room and thrusts an outfit into Jon’s arms. Martin rubs his neck before continuing, “There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer to the left of the sink and towels are in the cabinet when you walk in. I’ll uh- I’ll have to take one after you so…” He trails off. 

Jon looks at Martin a moment. His blush has faded to a light pink tint on his cheeks and ears, and for the first time Jon notices the eye bags under his hazel eyes. Jon hopes Martin will sleep alright tonight. 

Martin stares back at Jon, eyes widening. 

Jon clears his throat, before mumbling a ‘thank you’ and ducking into the bathroom. 

~

Martin’s clothes are, very, very comfortable. The shirt he lent Jon is baggy and soft against his skin, the joggers are loose and Jon finds himself hiking up the waistband every time it threatens to slip down his bony hips. 

Jon’s sitting on the edge of Martin’s bed, hunched over, listening to the shower hiss. He can hear Martin singing, hushed under the spray of water. Jon can’t quite make out any words, but Martin’s voice is clean and honestly, nice to listen to. Jon can remember listening to Martin talking about some poetry he’d been writing, and sitting here now, Jon can imagine Martin’s voice wavering over lines of poetry. He might have to ask Martin to read him some, later. 

There’s a squeak from the shower knob as the water stops, and Jon becomes acutely aware that he has just been listening to another man, his _coworker_ , singing, while fantasizing about being read poetry. He can’t even blame it on his earlier drunken state, as the shower had done a fine job of sobering him up. Martin, too, seems to be less… affected than he was at the party, the pink tint schooling into his usual rosy cheeks and his eyes becoming sharper. 

Martin opens the door and Jon lifts up his head to meet his gaze. He’s changed into what Jon assumes is his regular night clothes, a pair of shorts under a baggy shirt to match Jon’s. 

“Um, d’you… want me to turn the light off? I’m ready to… I’m pretty tired.”

Jon blinks at Martin. He’s spent the night with other people before, crashing at Sasha’s once or twice in the past couple of years,but this seems… personal. Like it’s important.

“That’s fine,” Jon replies. He shifts under the covers before removing his glasses and stashing them onto Martin’s side table. 

Jon watches Martin’s blurred figure cross over to the wall before the room goes dark. Martin softly pads over to the bed, which dips as he lifts up the covers and clambers in. Jon can feel Martin shifting and their arms brush together for a moment before Martin jerks away. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not, uh. Not used to sharing a bed with someone else, I guess-” Martin starts.

“It’s fine,” Jon says, slightly relieved.

Jon’s fingers touch his arm, where Martin had, before it clicks.

Relieved. He doesn’t want to think about Martin in bed with anyone else. He doesn’t want to think about Martin and Tim under the mistletoe, doesn’t want to think about whatever's been running through the back of his head all night. It’s no use, though and Jon huffs as his mind forces something to the front.

“Jon?”

“Martin. Martin,” Jon rolls over to face Martin and sits up. He can make out his outline, gaze finding purchase on Martin’s face. His eyes are softened by the darkness, and his peach-dyed hair reflects light from the window behind him. 

“Thank you. For letting me stay here.”

“It’s nothing Jon, I would- I’m happy to. Really.”

“I know. Martin.” Jon doesn’t know how to communicate this- this _thing._ But he knows Martin’s understood him when he sits up to match Jon’s position, turned and half covered by the sheets. 

He doesn’t know who moves first, but he quietly asks “can I?” before Martin’s mouth is on his, the taste of toothpaste cutting through the kiss. 

Jon’s eyes flutter shut and his mind goes blank as Martin shifts impossibly closer, cradling the back of Jon’s head as they move together. Jon makes a little contented noise when Martin moves his hand to his cheek and begins to rub his thumb over Jon’s cheekbone. 

His eyes flicker back open when Martin moves back, lips red and panting slightly. His gaze is unsteady when he meets Jon’s eyes, blush creeping steadily over his face. Jon watches as his freckles start to blend in.

“Um, Jon, Not that I minded but, where did- where did this come from? I can’t… This can’t be something just, er, casual. For me.”

Jon blinks at that. He doesn’t _want_ it to be casual either. He just wants Martin.

“It isn’t. It won’t be. I know I haven’t been… _kind_ to you recently-”

“You’ve been kind of a prick, Jon,” Martin snorts.

Jon laughs. “I’m sorry. I believe my perception of you has been, well, a little prejudiced, to say the least. But, then you said you didn’t sleep with anyone-”

Jon stops as Martin’s jaw falls open. 

“ _You-_ you _just_ realized you didn’t, what, _hate_ me? And you decided to kiss me? Jon, it took you _weeks_ to tell me you take your tea with milk and sugar, but this you do without even thinking! _Jon-_ ” 

Martin’s cut off as Jon starts laughing, sheets bunching up in his lap as he shakes. Martin just stares at him, bewildered, before breaking and starting to giggle. They stay there for a minute, and Jon begins to speak as he wipes tears from his eyes. 

“It didn’t really cross my mind to _think_ about it. I just had this- this _moment_ where I realized that the reasons why I didn’t like you were all orbiting around the fact that we never hung out like you and Tim, or Sasha. Martin, I thought I didn’t like you because I wanted to spend time with you. It’s silly, really. I can’t believe I didn't notice.”

Martin’s face is still tinged with pink as he replies. “Just, you know, for the record, I’ve wanted to… _spend time_ with you since. Well, since you first joined research, I guess.”

Jon’s lips shape around inaudible words as he takes in Martin’s confession. 

“That was two years ago!” 

“That’s- that’s not the point! The point is that you, you just kissed me!”

“Yes, Martin, I’m aware,” Jon quips. “And, if it’s not too much trouble, I would like to do it again?”

Martin pointedly closes his mouth and then nods, hand coming back to Jon’s neck before shutting his eyes. Jon smiles as he tilts his head and leans in.

~

Jon wakes up to the clinking of mugs coming from Martin’s kitchen, and he stumbles, still half asleep, into the hallway before stepping into the small kitchen where Martin has one elbow rested on the countertop. There’s a kettle boiling water and two matching blue mugs adorned with tea bags next to the stove. Jon comes up behind Martin and drapes his arms around him, face resting in the middle of his back.

“Good morning,” Martin says as he covers Jon’s hands with his own. “Sleep well?”

Jon’s reply is muffled by Martin’s back, but he smiles and Martin slowly turns around to face him. He lifts Jon's chin up and ducks down to kiss him, Jon’s smile spreading infectiously to Martin. 

Jon doesn’t think he’s ever been so dispirited to hear the whistle of a kettle.

**Author's Note:**

> i miss timothy stokers sexy ass so much also tim definitely stole jons keys. wingman extraordinaire. you can find me at vampivc on tumblr, thank you for reading :)


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